


Always Time For Cupcakes - 2p!England X Reader

by Butterfingas



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfingas/pseuds/Butterfingas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has made a new batch of cupcakes! But who will he choose to taste them?</p><p>This story has a graphic explanation of blood, kidnapping and death (it's not that bad though). If you do not wish to read these sorts of stories please do not read this one!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You watched as the wet puddles rippled under your feet, the cold drops of rain tickling your nose. You yanked your scarf up over your icy nose and let out a sigh, your warm breath catching in the soft fabric and warming up your cheeks. You didn’t mind walking home in the cold, and you did it almost every day, just as long as you had your trusty iPod. You pushed the little headphone buds into your ears, the loud slur of music filling your mind.

You hummed along with the beat, a small smile painted your lips. Your surroundings seem to blur as you twisted your body with the rhythm, not care if anyone saw your seizure like dance moves. You were breaking one of the most important rules of young girl walking home in the dark- never be distracted.

Your Mother and Father had taught you all about being savvy. They didn’t like you walking home alone so late, but there was no other choice since they couldn’t pick you up. To be honest, you actually liked this small amount of time to yourself. It let you embrace out your inner goofy self, and not to mention practice your singing.

A sudden flood of bright lights lit up your dark path, interrupting your loud singing. You blinked at the light that seeped past your dark figure on the road below, waiting for the car to pass. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. You frowned and speed up your walking, a strange tingling sensation twirling in your gut. Maybe the guy was driving slowly because of the rain? It was nothing to worry about.

You tried to resume your loud singing, clicking your fingers with each beat, but even your loud music could still not distract you from the bright beam of headlights on your back. You frowned and pursed your lips, whipping around quickly to get a glimpse at this suspicious car.

Nothing but bright white blurred your vision, making your eyes ache. You blinked and turned back around slowly, your fast walk now evolving into an awkward trot. Why was this car taking so long to pass? Was someone following you?

You gulped at your own thoughts, your instincts getting your body ready to run. You could already feel your pulse increasing by the second. As the song faded out to nothing in your ears, the nearby cracking of pebbles startled you. Okay, this car defiantly is following you. You sucked in a deep breath, ready to run.

Click

A strong arm wrapped around your collarbone, causing you to flinch and stop in your tracks. The strong stench of cigarettes and alcohol twirled around your nostrils. Your breathing quickened dramatically, your lungs working overtime as the stranger neared the silver gun closer to your head.

“Don’t move babe,” a deep voice hissed behind you, “I don’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

The stranger tapped the barrel of the gun against your skull, causing an electric shiver to travel down your spine. You whimpered slightly as he placed his pointy chin down heavily on your shoulder, snuggling up to your scarf.

“Mm, Oliver has a great choice in chicks,” he chuckled. “You hungry?”

You shook your head slowly, your lips beginning to tremble.

“Too bad, you’re going to eat.”

And with that, he wrapped his arm tightly around your neck, roughly squeezing your windpipe shut. You choked and gasped frantically for air as the stranger dragged you towards the bright beam of lights. You tried to scream, but the short supply of air starved your lungs and you just managed to choke out a whimper.

“Stop fighting, you lil bitch!” the stranger growled. You kicked violently, your teeth latching onto his tanned skin. He let out a pained hiss as you sunk your pearly whites into his soft flesh. He grabbed the two ends of your scarf, pulling the fabric tightly around your tender neck. You couldn’t give up; you needed to fight.

You swung your legs quickly, trying to hit him in his manhood, but the lack of oxygen to your muscles made you weak. Your kicks evolved into small twitches as you began to see double. This is it, you’re going to die. This horrible freak is going to kill you.

“Now Al, how is she supposed try my delicious treats if she is dead?”

The so called ‘Al’ looked up at the strange, pink-haired man before him, loosening his tight grip on the scarf. You yanked at scarf quickly, loosening its secure hold around your neck. As soon at the scarf was loose, you gasped for air, sucking in as much delicious oxygen your body could handle.

“Whatever,” Al grunted, grabbing your hair and tugging you roughly behind him. Your legs slipped from under you, your knees now scrapping on the rough terrain below. You choked and gasped frantically, trying to figure out what was happening to you.

Alfred swung open the car door, throwing you roughly on the two back seats. You looked up half-lidded at the two males at the open door deciding your fate.

“I’m so excited!” the smaller male squealed, clapping his hands together. He leaned in the door, a psychotic ear-to-ear smile painted on his freckly face.

“I’m Oliver! Do you like cupcakes, poppet?” he asked, his sickening sweet breath washing over you. You gulped and nodded slowly, your toes curling in your shoes. The man seemed to like your response because he squealed in delight, his crazy blue eyes dancing all around your body.

“Hurry up!” Al demanded from behind Oliver, fiddling with his gun. “This bitch better be worth it ‘cause I’m getting real sick of your shit--“

Oliver pinched Al's nose tightly, his sharp nails digging into his tanned skin.  
“That is no way to address a lady! What is your name, poppet?” Oliver asked, turning back to face you. You cowered in the corner of the backseat away from the two crazy men before you.

“Hmm, she is scared. Not to worry, my dear. I will sit back here with you!”

Oliver climbed in next to you, the crazy smile still plastered to his face. You gulped and reached for the door handle, a spark of hope igniting in your heart. But all your hope seemed to disappear as the firm door handle remained clamped shut.

“Uh uh~ No escape for you my dear,” Oliver giggled, hand motioning for Alfred to get a move on. Alfred climbed into the front seat and started the ignition. You whimpered and began banging on the car window.

“Help me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. “Somebody please, help me!”

“Shh,” Oliver cooed, placing a cold finger over your lips. You growled and sunk your teeth into his pale finger, earning a pained yelp from Oliver. The pink swirls in his eyes seemed to glow with anger, his large smile disappearing into a crazy snarl as his large hand collided with your soft cheek.

“It’s not nice to bite!” he tutted, grabbing your hair and pulling you close to his lips.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispered darkly into your ear, “or I won't be so kind next time.”

You wriggled out of his deadly grasp and backed up against the window. You clawed at the cold glass, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You should have listened to your mother when she explained this stuff to you 100 times. You should have paid more attention to your father when he taught you how to fight back these kinds of creeps. You shouldn’t have been so oblivious and stupid. You shouldn’t have...

“Shh poppet, do not cry,” Oliver cooed from next to you. “I will not hurt you; I just want you to try some of my delicious goodies!”

“You say that to every one of your victims,” Al snorted from the front seat, his scarlet eyes glaring at you in the rear view mirror. “And what happens to them? They end up dead in a ditch on the side of the road.”

Al flashed you a devious smile in the mirror.

“Please let me go,” you gasped, “please, I’ll do anything!”

“I’m sorry dear, but I cannot let you escape. You’re mine now,” Oliver smiled, the pink swirls in his eyes glowing again. You whipped around and began to scream again, kicking the door with all your force.

“Shut that bitch up, she’s gonna wreck my ride!” Al growled from the front seat. You kicked harder at the window, causing a thin crack to form under your feet. Yes, this is great! You kicked the cracked glass harder, causing more thicker cracks to appear.

“Screw this,” Al growled, stepping down on the gas pedal hard. The roar of the engine filled the car, over powering your screams. Your kicking slowed as the scenery flew past the cracked window, causing your head to spin.

Suddenly, Al spun the wheel sharply, causing you to smash roughly into Oliver. You gasped as Oliver’s cold, pale fingers clamped down on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place.

“Just take us home, Al,” Oliver said coldly to the cackling red head in the front seat. You tried to break loose from Oliver’s deadly grasp, but every time you wriggled, his sharp nails would sink deeper into your tender flesh. You glanced up at your kidnapper, the shimmering tears still flowing down your cheeks.

“Please let me go. If you don’t, my father will find you and kill you!” you threatened, your voice cracking mid-sentence. Oliver smiled down at your nervous face, revealing his perfect white teeth. He placed an icy finger over your mouth again. You opened your jaw, ready to clamp down on his flesh, but his psychotic stare stopped you.

“I don’t think your daddy will find you, dear,” he giggled, squeezing your sore cheeks. “As I already said, you’re mine. There is no escape for you!”

You felt like you were going to puke at this sick man’s words. Suddenly Oliver glanced up, his large smile growing even more in size.

“Ah! Home sweet home,” he sighed, loosening his grip on your shoulders. You took this quick opportunity to climb off of this crazy multicoloured Brit and reach for his door handle. You growled in delight as the door swung open, revealing the moving gravel below. You scrambled over Oliver, ready to jump out of the door, but a sharp pull by your ear flung you roughly on your back.

“Tut tut, you mustn’t do that, poppet!” Oliver cooed sweetly through his clenched teeth as he slammed the door shut. He dug his sharp nails into your ear, making you cry out in pain. His smile returned as he pinched your soft ear harder, earning a loud whimper from your sore throat.

“Music to my ears!” he sang. The car slowed to a stop and Al climbed out quickly, making his way to the back door.

“Now, give me my $300,” Al said, eyeing you up and down with his intimidating scarlet eyes. Oliver pouted at the tall, tanned male.

“No, you need to carry her in! I do not want any scratches on my delicate skin,” Oliver replied, slowly climbing out around Al. Al cursed filthy words under his breath as he reached in for you.

“Can I at least tie the scarf around the bitch so she won’t scream?” he asked, snatching your scarf from the dirty floor.

“Okay, just don’t kill her!” Oliver sang, making his way towards the small house. You cringed at his words, cowering in the corner of the cold car.

“Now, make this easy for me. That bastard ain’t stopping me from killing you right here, right now,” Al growled, grabbing you roughly by the feet. You gripped onto whatever you could, kicking Al frantically. Al growled with anger and wrapped his large, tanned fingers around your ankle. With one, swift pull; you were pulled right out of the car onto the cold gravel.

Al quickly reached down and wrapped the scarf tightly around your neck, copying his earlier actions and pulling the ends tight. You gasped and clawed at Alfred’s face, grabbing his sunglasses and throwing them towards the nearest bush.

“You little bitch!” Al screamed, his large fist colliding with your nose. You yelled in pain, hot tears beginning to form in your eyes again.

“Let me go!” you screamed, or choked, as you pulled at the tight scarf. This was pure torture. How could these men do something so terrible to you?

“Hurry up, Al!” Oliver sung cheerfully from the door way. Al quickly grabbed your hair, yanking you roughly behind him. You kicked and choked as the cold, wet ground stained your now soaking pants.

Your knees smashed into the door frame, making you whimper in pure pain and distress.

“Uh, yes!” Oliver cooed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Just tie her up to that chair in the kitchen Al, then you insistence will be no longer needed.”

“Good. Little fucking bitch broke my sunglasses,” Al snorted, giving your hair another yank. You hissed in pain as you scratched at his hand, but it was no use. Al's grip tightened around your hair as he roughly dragged you across the floor towards the firm chair that stood in the middle of the kitchen.

As soon as you entered the warm kitchen, the warm, delicious scent of baked goodies filtered through your nostrils, causing your stomach to growl. You sobbed quietly as Al placed you roughly in the chair.

“Tie her hands and legs up. We don’t want her escaping now, do we?” Oliver cooed from the doorway. You whimpered as Al pulled the ropes around your wrists and ankles, giving you a painful case of rope burn. After about five minutes of tying, Al stood back, studying his work with pride.

“Done. Money, now,” Al chanted rudely, shoving his large hand in Oliver’s face. Oliver reached into his pocket and fished out the green paper, not taking his large, crazy eyes off of you once.

“Here you go~” he sang, clapping the money into the impatient American’s hand and pushing him aside.

“Now, poppet, it’s time to play!” Oliver giggled, taking an excited step towards you. Al smirked deviously at you, before disappearing out the door way. You twitched around in you restraints, the rough rope rubbing against your sensitive skin.

“Please...” you sobbed, “please let me go. Please! I won’t tell anyone! Please...”

Oliver leaned over you, his cold lips only inches away from yours.

“I’m sorry, poppet, but you cannot be trusted,” he whispered, his bright blue eyes boring into yours. You swallowed that painful lump in your throat as you stared into those empty cold eyes with little pink swirls.

“Now, are you hungry?”

You shook your head slowly. Oliver pouted.

“Why not?” he whined, his eyes still only inches from yours. You slowly shook your head again, a fat tear leaking from your eye and travelling down your bruised cheek. Oliver’s pink tongue poked out from his lips and slid up your wet cheeks, licking up the remains of your sadness.

“There is no need to cry,” he cooed, swallowing your salty sadness. He leaned up slowly, his cold eyes still connected with yours and another huge smile stretched his lips and dimpling his freckled cheeks. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them quickly, his crazy eyes glazed with excitement.

“Now, let’s eat!” he cheered, tip toeing over to an oven. He slipped a couple of bright oven mitts over his pale fingers, humming a familiar song. The song you were listening to when you were grabbed. And, maybe, the last song you will ever hear.

“Uh-huh!” he cheered as he pulled out a tray of multi-coloured cupcakes out of the hot oven. You watched with large, terrified eyes as he placed the tray on a nearby table.

“Okay poppet! Which of my delicious cupcakes would you like to try first? I made them just for you!”

You shook your head quickly. There is no way you’re going to eat any of those, even though they looked good. Really good...

Oliver picked up a steaming cupcake smothered with (fave colour) icing, taking a quick lick with his pink tongue before kneeling in front of your trembling body.

“Open wide!” he giggled as he neared the sweet-smelling cupcake towards your pursed lips. You shook your head frantically, trying desperately to escape the tight restraints.

“Open,” Oliver said firmly as he neared the cupcake closer, the warm icing rubbing against your lips. You pursed your lips even tighter until they disappeared into a thin line. Oliver growled at your terrified face and reached forwards, his cold fingers clamping down roughly on the hinges of your jaw.

“Open!” he growled as he squeezed your jaw. You whimpered in pain as he forced your mouth open with his pointy fingers.

“There we go~” he sang as he began to push the warm cupcake through your slightly parted lips. When you didn’t bite down, he shoved the sweet cupcake further into your small mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed as he continued to push the whole cupcake into your choking mouth, paper and all. Tears streamed down your cheeks as he pushed hard on your chin, clamping your jaw shut over the cupcake.

“Now chew, poppet. You don’t want to choke,” he whispered as he held your mouth shut. You choked as hot pieces of cupcake lodged in your throat, and clumpy saliva dribbled down your chin.

“Tut tut, that is no way for a lady to eat!” he tutted, grabbing a nearby towel and rubbing your messy face. You dug your nails into the palm of your hands and curled your tongue, spitting out the moist, clumpy remains of the cupcake. Oliver grabbed your chin, his furious eyes connecting with yours.

“Now why did you spit it out?” he asked through his teeth. You shook your head, trying to escape his deadly cold grasp. A sudden loud smack startled you, causing you to whimper loudly. Oliver leaned forward and placed his cold lips against your red, throbbing cheek.

“Each time you spit it out, your punishment will grow worse,” he giggled, giving your sore cheek a quick kiss.

“Now, poppet! You’re going to eat all of those cupcakes,” Oliver smiled, pointing to the fresh batch of steaming goods, “or the consequences will be severe.”

You gulped at his words. There is no way you could escape this mad man. You were trapped. You were either going to choke to death on those warm cupcakes, or die young with a knife in your belly.

No, you mustn’t think like that! There is always a way out, you just need to think hard. No matter what, no matter how hard it will be, no matter how much pain you will have to endure, you will escape this psychotic man. You will escape.


	2. Part Two

There is always a way out, you just need to think hard. No matter what, no matter how hard it will be, no matter how much pain you will have to endure, you will escape this psychotic man. You will escape. 

You glared at the cheerful man before you, nothing but pure hate pumping through your veins. Oliver traced his finger over the muffin tray, studying the colourful cupcakes before him.

“Oh, poppet,” he said, his vision still plastered to the rainbow cupcakes, “I don’t think I quite caught your name!”

You remained silent as he skimmed his finger over a small cupcake, the pink icing sticking to his pale finger. He giggled as he placed his now pink finger onto his tongue, licking up the remaining icing. He hummed in delight as the sweet icing thrilled his taste buds. You pursed your lips.

“It’s not nice to keep me waiting,” he said, his voice growing darker and impatient. You stiffened in your restraints, your toes curling in your shoes. Oliver slowly turned to you, the pink swirls in his eyes glowing brighter than ever.

“Poppet?” he said firmly, taking his first few steps towards your trembling body, his white fingers wrapped around the bright pink cupcake. Oliver knelt down in front of your body, a sickening smile spread across his face.

“What is your name?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown.

“Excuse me?” he asked, placing a hand behind his ear.

“I said, go fuck yourself!” you hissed at the frowning Brit in front of you. Oliver blinked at your sudden outburst, his face twisting in disgust. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to speak like that to him.

“Such foul words to come from a young lady’s mouth!” he cried, standing up to his fall height. “That kind of language is not allowed in my home! You must be punished.”

And with that, Oliver walked over to the kitchen sink and began to search for his desired object.

“I’m sorry!” you said quickly, your heart beginning to thump in fear. Oliver shook his head and tutted, his fingers wrapping around a medium-sized white object. You watched as he walked back over to you, a large Cheshire grin stuck to his face again.

“Please...” you began, but Oliver only shook his head.

“Open wide!” he sang, kneeling before you again. Tears began to form in your eyes again as he neared the object towards your lips. You slowly parted your lips, knowing better than to keep them closed. Oliver roughly shoved the white object through your slightly parted lips, causing a rush of bubbles to fill your mouth.

You twisted your face in disgust as you tried to turn your face away, but Oliver grabbed your chin, his happy eyes connecting with yours. He pumped the soap in and out of your mouth, causing you to gag and choke. You begged him to stop, tears shimmering in your eyes, but he showed no remorse. It was as if he wasn’t human.

The soap hit the back of your throat, causing fat tears to escape your closed eyes and drip down your wet cheeks. Oliver’s strange eyes never left yours as he continued to pump the soap into your bubbly, choking mouth. You had never tasted something so bitter in your life. You tried your hardest to spit out the bubbly, salty salvia that swirled around your tongue, but Oliver’s cold, piercing eyes stopped you.

“What is your name, poppet?” he asked, slowing down the thrusting soap. You still shook your head quickly, refusing to answer him. He sighed with frustration and began pumping the soap in and out of your mouth again at an alarming pace. You dug your nails into your palm and choked your name.

“_______,” you gagged, but it only came out as a cough.

“Pardon?” Oliver asked, nearing his ear towards your lips.

“_______!” you said more clearly this time. Oliver smiled and leaned forward, placing his cold lips against your forehead.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it, ______?”

You shivered in disgust. The way your name rolled off his tongue made you want to puke, or maybe it was the sour bubbles that popped in your mouth. The thick bubbles began to slide down your chin, mixed with saliva and salty tears. Oliver slowly pulled the soap out of your choking mouth, a thick trail of soapy-saliva still stuck to it.

“Swallow it,” he said firmly. You shook your head slowly, ready to spit out the bubbly mess that filled your mouth, but his cold hand stopped you. You slowly obeyed his firm words and swallowed the sour bubbles and saliva. You shivered as the thick mess slid down your throat, making you gag.

“Please,” you pleaded, “no more. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” he said simply, throwing the soap to one side.

“Now, ________, would you like another cupcake?” he giggled, picking back up the pink cupcake. You nodded slowly, actually excited to get the foul taste of soap out of your mouth. Oliver smiled as he neared the cupcake to your lips, which were already parted, waiting for the sweet snack.

You bit down on the warm cupcake and sighed in delight. You have never been so happy to eat a cupcake in your whole life. Oliver was actually feeding you slowly too, taking his time and waiting for you to swallow after each bite.

“Is it good?” he asked, his large, bright eyes glazed with enthusiasm. You nodded quickly, nibbling at the last of the cupcake. Oliver smiled in content, glad that you liked his sticky treats. You still hated this man with everything you had, but his cupcakes weren’t half bad.

As you swallowed the last of the cupcake, Oliver smiled his normal cheshire smile, the pink swirls in his eyes fading.

“You liked my cupcakes, yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice hoarse. Oliver leaned down to you, your noses only inches apart. His light-blue eyes scared you; the way they shimmered when you cowered sent alarming shivers up your spine.

“How much?” he asked, his cold, sweet breath brushing past your cheeks.

“A lot,” you replied simply, trying to avoid eye contact. Oliver pouted at your reply.

“In detail.”

“They were delicious, the best I’ve ever tasted,” you replied coldly. Oliver’s pout quickly disappeared into a smile, obviously not catching your clear sarcasm.

“Ha! Why thank you, ______!” he giggled, his cold lips pressing up against yours. Your eyes widened in surprise as his pink tongue slid along your bottom lip, his sweet taste filling your mouth. You twisted your face in disgust and craned your neck away, disconnecting your lips from his. Oliver blinked at you, his face spelling out that he was clearly hurt.

“Don’t touch me!” you hissed, your face still screwed up with disgust. Oliver twisted his face as well, raising his hand into the air. You clenched your eyes shut and prepared for the painful slap.

Quiet seconds passed.

You cracked one eye open and studied your bright surroundings. Your eyes stopped on Oliver’s colourful clothes. You watched the pale Brit walk slowly around your trembling body, a thinking finger placed on his freckled chin. He mumbled ‘What to do’ under his breath, causing you to swallow painfully.

“What’s going to happen to me?” you asked, your voice cracking mid-sentence. Oliver’s gaze slowly flickered down to meet yours.

“I’m not quite sure yet, poppet,” he said, slowly beginning to trace around your restrained body again. “Killing you would be fun.”

You tensed violently at his words. He traced his long, skinny finger along the kitchen bench, his hand getting closer to an unpleasant looking knife. He wrapped his cold fingers around the black handle, holding the sharp object up into the air.

“Please don’t!” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes again. Oliver glared at your sobbing figure reflecting off the sharp knife.

“Why not? I always dispose of my tasters. What makes you any different to all the other girls?”

“They will find you and kill you!” you sobbed frantically. Oliver clicked his tongue and lowered the knife. 

“Who are they?” Oliver asked simply.

“My family! My friends!” you cried angrily, scowling through your stream of tears. “They love me, and they will find me!”

Oliver clenched his teeth and spun around to face you, his face twisted in anger. He took two large strides towards you, nothing but hate plastered to his face.

“The only they’re going to find is your dismantled body in a ditch,” he said sourly, his face inches from yours. “You’re my property now.”

“I’m no ones property!” you screamed back into his face. You immediately regretted your actions when he spun around and strode back over to the kitchen bench, grabbing the sharp knife.

“No,” you whispered as he pointed the knife towards you. You dug your nails into your palm, fat tears rolling down your cheek.

He squeezed the knife so tightly that his fingers turned a ghostly white. Crouching down in front of your whimpering body, he ran the pointed object along your cheek, slicing a thin, scarlet line down your tender flesh.

You whimpered in pain as he brought the now crimson edge towards his pink tongue, lapping up your dark blood. You watched him, nothing but disgust brewing inside your gut. He closed his eyes and let out a long hum, his lips tugging up into a sweet smile.

His eyes suddenly shot open, his dark pupils now large and disturbing. You shifted uncomfortably in your restraints, trying to look away from the creepy man in front of you, but the fact his face was now only inches away from yours made it difficult.

You watched as your dark blood leaked from his lips, leaving a light trail behind it as it dripped off his sharp chin.

“You taste absolutely scrumptious,” he commented, his sweet breath washing over your face. You swallowed in disgust.

Oliver neared the knife closer to your pursed lips, a large smile reappearing on his freckled face once again.

“Taste it,” he encouraged sharply, his large pupils not leaving yours. You hesitantly poked out your tongue, knowing better than to deny, and ran it along the sharp edge. You could feel the sharp metal slicing through your delicate muscle, but you swallowed back the quiet whimpers.

The thick, sour taste of copper ripped through your tongue, causing your lips to twitch in disgust. This man has force-fed you cupcakes, cleaned your mouth out with soap, hit you, and now he was making you eat your own blood? You needed to get out of here. And quick.

Oliver raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. You nodded slowly, trying your hardest to prevent your face from curling with disgust. His intense gaze flickered back down to the knife.

You watched in fear as he pulled back his sleeve, exposing his pale wrist. When the blade and his skin met, he let out a pleasurable moan, his lips twitching. The sound of slicing skin made you cringe, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the crimson blood that seeped out around the blade.

His dark blood mixed with yours on the knife, creating an even thicker and darker shade of scarlet. He slowly pulled the silver blade away from the deep gash and moved it towards his pink tongue, his eyes reconnecting with yours. You watched, somewhat intrigued as he ran his tongue up the edge, the dark blood pooling on his tongue.

He leaned forward slowly, his cold lips connecting with yours. Before you could react, he pushed his wet tongue past your lips, the blood that stained his tongue filling your mouth. You tried to turn your head away, but his firm fingers clamped down on your chin, holding you in place.

He swirled his tongue around yours, spreading the blood around the crevasses of your mouth. You usually hated blood, but the taste was amazing. Both of your blood combined was like some sort of aphrodisiac.

You moaned slightly as some of the blood leaked from your lips, dribbling slowly down your chin. You wanted to pull away; to get away from his lips and escape, but it was as if his cold, pale lips trapped you. You just couldn’t escape, even if you tried.  
Oliver gently pulled away from the kiss, his pupils now almost as big as his blue iris. Your pupils widened too as you realized what just happened. You had just kissed this man back. You had just kissed the man who had kidnapped you, hit you, and made you drink blood.

Oliver smiled at your shocked face, his lips now stained a bright red.

“See, my poppet,” he breathed, his face nearing closer to yours again, “I’m not that evil, I just—“

“Get away from me!” you hissed, shaking your head away from his stare. Oliver glared at you, the pink swirls in his eyes glowing with anger and hurt.

“Did you not like our kiss?”

“No...” you growled, staring straight at the brightly coloured eyes that belonged to Oliver. Oliver’s face was unreadable as he swallowed the last of the blood in his mouth.  
His eye lids slowly flickered shut as he leaned in towards your cheek, running his wet tongue up the deep gash. You whimpered in both pain and disgust as he pulled his pink muscle away, a string of a mixture of saliva and blood still connecting the two of you.

“Your blood is so sweet,” he hummed, his eyes flickering open. “By far the best I’ve ever tasted.”

You twitched uncomfortably at his words.

“Sleep tight, my poppet,” he whispered, his cold lips brushing up against your sweaty forehead. An electric chill pumped down your curved spine as he smiled at you, revealing his shiny, sharp canines.

And with those words, he stood up to his fall height and walked past you. With a small ‘click’, the room was flooded with darkness, leaving you alone with nothing. Was he really going to leave you alone, all tied up in the kitchen?

You clenched your fists with hate. How dare that man do this to you? You needed to escape before morning. Before that freckled-face Brit came back. You didn’t want to see his disgusting cutesy face anymore. You wanted to slap it; you wanted to kick it; you wanted to do horrible things to that man.

You shook your head slowly in thought. If you tortured him, then you wouldn’t be any better than that sick and twisted creep. Right now, you needed to concentrate on escape.

You puffed out your cheeks and scanned the dark room, trying to adjust your eyes to this new lighting. You moved around in your restraints, trying to find a weak spot, but it was no use. You were tied down good.

You sighed in frustration and grinded your teeth loudly. You needed something sharp. A knife? The knife!

Your eyes darted towards the blood-soaked knife that was placed on the kitchen counter. That would probably work, but you needed to get it first. You tried to grind the chair forward, but to your disappointment, the chair stayed glued to the floor. Maybe if you vibrated the bench, the knife could fall off?

Without even thinking, you flung your leg out, kicking the counter hard. The table vibrated, causing the sharp knife to ever so slightly jump towards the drop. You hissed in delight as you kicked the table again. A sharp jolt of pain travelled through your toes, but you tried your hardest to ignore it. Pain didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was escape.

You kicked the kitchen bench repeatedly, the knife jumped closer and closer with each hit. You clenched your eyes shut, and with one last hard kick, the knife slid off the side of the table, landing sideways on your foot.

Perfect.

You smiled with delight. Now, the knife has to somehow get to your hands. You frowned in thought as you brought your foot closer to your body, the knife balanced carefully on the top of your foot. You poked your blood-stained tongue out as your foot edged closer and closer to your body.

You foot jerked, the restraints pulling back on your ankle. This plan wasn’t going to work; you couldn’t move your leg anymore. You whined in frustration. Maybe, somehow, you could flick your foot so the knife could land on your lap? It was a pretty bad plan, but you needed to try everything.

You clenched your teeth as you flicked your foot quickly. You watched as the sharp blade left your foot and travelled up through the air, successfully landing on your lap with a thump.

“Yes!” you cried quietly, awkward arching your back and lifting your lap towards your tied hands. Excitement rippled through your core when your fingers wrapped around the blade. This is it; you’re going to escape!

You twisted your hand and began to slice the rope around your sore wrist, nothing but pure relief pumping through your blood. You curved your hand, breaking the last few threads of rope around your wrist.

Without even praising your awesomeness, you quickly began to cut the rope on your other hand. Your heart was thumping so violently in your chest that you thought you would pass out. You laughed quite loudly when your other hand was cut free. Now, time to cut the restraints on your legs.

~Time skip, cause cutting rope is getting boring and explaining it is hard skfjskfhsjkfsgdsjhgsjd~

You shakily stood up, twisting and flexing your wrists and ankles. The blood circulated around these needed areas, getting rid of those painful pins-and-needles.

You had been so caught up in escaping, that you didn’t notice a figure only inches from you, shielded by the darkness that surrounded you both. Something hard and cold connected with your head, knocking you roughly on your side. Your forehead crashed into the sharp corner of the table, slicing through your skin and entering your flesh.

Whoever this person was, they were not happy.

You were in big trouble.


	3. Part Three (Ending)

~This chapter talks about what happens after death. Please do not read if you will get offended (I just kind of made up my own scenario) ~

Your fingers twitched. That was the only indication that your still body wasn’t lifeless. You were still alive. You were still fighting.

You quickly flipped yourself on your back, raising your hands in a defensive manner. You tried to ignore the searing pain on your forehead, a large moan bubbling in your throat. A pair of cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, squeezing them violently. You sucked in a deep breath and kicked the figure repeatedly, a loud scream vibrating your body.

The dark figure growled in frustration. This can’t be Oliver; his strength is overwhelming!

He whipped his hands away from your small wrists and tried to smack you, but you caught his hand and brought it towards your snarling lips. The large figure choked in pain as you sunk your teeth into his flesh, an unsettling crunch filling the air.

The man’s wobbly growl echoed throughout the kitchen. You bit down harder on his hand, the familiar taste of sweet blood filling your mouth. Sickeningly sweet. There is only one man with such an unpleasant sweet taste. You twisted your face in disgust.

The dark figure lifted his other hand, squeezing it into a fist and swinging it down onto your face. You released his hand immediately and screamed out in pain. Your blood-curdling scream was cut short when something cold penetrated your shoulder with immense force, yet another bone-shattering noise filling the air.

You stared at the dark figure, your mouth wide open. There was too much pain to scream. Too much pain to move. Too much pain to breathe.

“Poppet!” the man growled through the blanket of darkness. Unmistakably Oliver. “How dare you try to escape! You silly little girl!”

His voice sounded dark and disturbing. Even through the immense, searing pain in your shoulder, you could still tell one thing, and it was that he was furious. You could hear him shift away from your body and towards the door. A sudden light flooded the room, illuminating the brightly decorated room.

“Look at you. What a mess,” Oliver’s familiar voice echoed. Your chest moved rapidly as you stared up at the man, your eyes bubbling with tears. He had ruined all of your chances of escaping. You couldn’t even move now.

Why did you even bother thinking it was another person. Help maybe? Oliver is the only person here. Oliver is the only person that can hear your screams. And maybe, he’ll be the last person you will ever see.

You choked slightly on your own saliva, your vision turning blurry. You could feel your chest beginning to soak in thick blood. You couldn’t move your head, but you didn’t need to. You could already see the large knife sticking out from your shoulder.

Oliver kneeled over your whimpering body, his cold fingers roughly cupping your face. Fat tears tattooed your cheeks as they escaped your eye. Oliver pinched your cheek tightly, a scowl creeping up on his face. He was totally losing his shit. He was angrier than you had even seen that cheerful freckled blonde.

“Silly, silly girl!”

He raised his hand up in the air, swinging it down onto your soft cheek. Through gritted teeth, he grabbed your hair and sat you up roughly, his cold lips just inches from your ear. You hissed in discomfort, watching as more blood leaked from your deep wound.

“You’re useless now,” Oliver hissed into your ear. “Now I’ll have to kill you.”  
You choked again at his words, letting out a muffled ‘no’. Oliver only laughed at your nervous face, his eyes swirling with excitement from all the blood.

“No… please,” you choked, your only hope slowly fading away. Even though the pain was excruciating, you didn’t want to die. You will never give up. “I-“

Your words were cut off by your own scream. Oliver carelessly pulled the blade from your shoulder, causing a disturbing amount of blood to seep from your cut. Oliver pointed the blood soaked blade at his at your tear-stained face.

“Oh no~” he giggled. “Does that hurt, poppet?”

Oliver roughly threw you on your back, an electric rush of pain attacking your whole body. He clenched his teeth together again into a frightening smile. He lifted the blade in the air, his eyes connecting with your large ones.

“I want to hear that scream again!” he growled with excitement, the candyfloss-like swirls in his eyes now glowing neon.

It all happened so quick. His smile growing; his eyes widening. The blood-soaked blade whirling towards your shoulder with tremendous force. The sickening sound of tearing skin and flesh. Your cracked scream that filled the dim room. The insane giggles that danced out of Oliver’s mouth.

Oliver twisted the blade inside your shoulder, causing your screams to wobble and hiss. You were completely soaked in your own blood and tears, both of your shoulders now penetrated.

Oliver yanked the blade out of your shoulder, but you didn’t scream. Your whole body was numb. You were too weak. Too tired. You were giving up. You were letting this man kill you. The only sound now to reach your ear was the deep beat of your dying heart.

You watched, your vision blurring, as Oliver happily licked the blood off the large knife. The crimson liquid dribbled down his chin as his pupils grew enormous. He placed the now clean knife to one side and climbed over you, the blood trickling from his sharp chin onto your face.

“You know, poppet, I think you were my favourite experiment. Seeing how long it takes for someone to bleed to death is such fun! And your screams! Oh, you do know how do please a man, poppet.”

He carelessly stuck his finger into your wound, twisting and jabbing around in your warm flesh. His large pupils met your shrinking ones; you could have sworn you saw a flash of green in them. A flash of regret. A flash of helplessness.

Oliver leaned down and stuck his cold tongue into the pulsing wound, lapping up your warm bodily fluids. He listened to the slowing beat of your heart; it was music to his ears. He found such joy doing this to people. Watching them cower in fear at the sight of him. Seeing them quiver in pain.

Your whole chest was numb. No pain. No strength.

Your fingers twitched. That was the only indication that your still body wasn’t lifeless. You were still alive. You were still fighting.

You got a sudden spark of energy to your wrist. It was as if it was a last ditch effort from your brain. One more try. Never give up. Your fingers moved ever so slightly, only to lightly rub up against something hard. Something wet, but still warm.

“Oliver,” you whispered. Oliver paused his happy licking and backed up slightly. You could feel his legs tighten by your sides, his finger’s running along your bloody hair.

“Yes, poppet?” he asked smoothly, his pupils shrinking slightly in size.

“Burn in hell.”

Before Oliver had time to react, you swung your arm up, your fingers wrapped tightly around the blade. With all the strength you had left, you sunk the blade square into his back. His eyes widened frantically, a small whimper escaping his lips. Blood leaked from his mouth as the blade penetrated his cold heart.

His eyes met yours. They had no emotion at all, just a plan, uncomfortable stare. His arms wobbled slightly, before collapsing completely from under him. His forehead crashed into yours and the full weight of his body crushed your wounds. You choked in discomfort and pushed him aside, his body rolling off yours.

His ragdoll figure landed next to your gasping figure, his eyes pinned to the ceiling. You turned your head slightly to look at the dying man. Through all his blood-splattering chokes and gasps, you could almost swear he was changing colour.

His once pink hair was now growing darker into an amazing, vibrant blonde colour. His light skin and freckles disappeared, replaced by a slightly darker shade of soft skin. His eyes, once blue and cold, faded into a bright green colour, bursting with life.

The new man’s green orbs met yours. They seemed to be glazed over with happiness, but the once vibrate green were now fading. He was dying.

A tear sprouted from the man’s eye as his lips quivered into a small smile.

“Thank you, _______,” the man choked, but his British accent still ran strong. “Thank you for setting me free.”

“What?” you choked. What the hell was going on? We’re you hallucinating from blood loss?

“Thank you.”

And with those words, the new young man let out a small choke, his eyelids slowly flickering down; his lungs deflate with his last breath. Silence. Nothing but peaceful silence.

You watched the man die before your watery eyes, but yet you felt undying pride. You let out a small choke yourself, your vision growing blurry beyond repair. This was it. It was your time to go.

You copied the young man’s actions. Your eyelids uncontrollably slid down, and your lungs pushed out your last breath, as if someone was standing on your chest. You felt so peaceful. You accepted your fate.

You felt yourself lift from your still body, as if you were floating. You had so much energy now. Everything around you was so bright and alluring. Everything felt so alive.  
You turned your head to your lifeless body below. Your body looked so pained and terrible, this new perspective felt like so much fun. I mean shit, you could fly!

“______.”

You turned towards the voice, your eyes connecting with a pair of bright green orbs. The blonde English boy held out his hand, motioning you to take it. You swam through the air towards him, a large smile growing on your soft, angel-like face.

“Where are we goin-“

“Put your hands up! Police!”

You whipped around towards your lifeless body. A whole group of intimating men entered the house, the guns pointed in all directions. A few brightly dressed men quickly gathered around your lifeless, bloody body. They whipped out a kit with all different machines and tools as one began to pump down on your chest.

“Quickly, pass me the defibrillator!” the man yelled to his partner. He was passed two strange little shields, which he then continued to rub together.

“One, two, three!”

He placed the machine on your chest. Your lifeless body awkwardly arched up as he checked your pulse. You felt your own floating figure be sucked down ever so slightly.

“Again!”

With another arch of your fleshy body, your swimming figure was being pulled down. You turned to the boy and tried to reach his hand, but he slowly pulled it away.

“I don’t want to go,” you yelled up to him. “I want to go with you!”

The young man only shook his head, his large smile fading slightly.

“You must go, _________. You still have a fighting chance. You have so much to life for. Your friends, your family. Do it for them.”

You nodded slowly, you lower lip quivering. He was right, you couldn’t just leave your family like this. You still needed to win against Oliver. You must be victorious.

“Goodbye, ________.”

Your eyes shot open, your mouth agape. You breathed in frantically for air, the pain leaking back into your mind. It was definitely something you did not miss. The group of doctors gathered around you, sticking a breathing tube down your throat and lifting you out of the house.

You felt tired, yet happy you had survived. You had stopped Oliver from harming any other young girls. Come to think of it, you may have even saved lives. You let out a small, choked yawn, ready to rest. You were safe now.

The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was Al being pushed up against the wall, his hands being cuffed behind his back. His furious red eyes met yours, his lips curling back into a viscous snarl.

Your lips curled into a smile, and with all the strength you had left, you raised your hand at the tanned male, your middle finger standing high and proud in the air.

There is always a way out, you just need to think hard. No matter what, no matter how hard it will be, no matter how much pain you will have to endure, you will escape this psychotic man. You will escape.


End file.
